Chapter 4
" W hat’s up, man?” Bandit’s voice wasn’t the one I hoped for but it was still good to hear. We rode side by side for seven years. Came up through the Desperados together. Both of us getting patched together. So, I got why he was staying in touch. We were more than brothers.
“Nothing, man. It’s all good.”
“How’s the white picket fence life?”He asked me, only half-kidding.
I snorted. “It’s alright. Jelena is settling in. She loves her new room. It’s the first one we set up. You wouldn’t see that much pink in a Pepto-Bismol factory. Did you know there are legit, like one hundred and fifty-seven shades of pink? I don’t get it, but Rosalee tells me some girls like pink and to enjoy it while I can. Before the dreaded all-black and grunge years.”
“Jelena has too much sunshine to ever be that girl. You done good, son”he says, even though we’re the same age.
“I’m trying. Trying to give her the things I didn’t have. We moved around so fucking much. After we left Mexico, we never had a place of our own. And even if I’d had a bedroom, I would have had to share it with at least a dozen cousins. You know how it is.”
“Yep. It was the same in my family. Only we weren't close. That’s one reason I joined. It’s crazy how you can have a family but not have a family.”
I grunted in agreement, but his words made me think of Noel. Had she confronted her father? It’s been a week, and I haven’t heard a thing. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I wanted to give you a heads-up. Hatchet took a spill, and now we’re one crew short. Prez asked me if I thought you’d be interested in one last ride. You know Harlem’s on his honeymoon with his girl, and Prez didn’t want to pull him back.”
“Bandit—”
He cuts me off before I refuse. “I know. I know. Told him, you were done. But Prez said it’d be just this one time. And it wouldn’t involve the trucks at all. Just me, you—”
“And about a thousand pills.”
“Like I said, I know. But this is why Prez sticks with the level four stuff—low risk. Nobody’s checking for Viagra and Tramadol. There are way worse things to distribute.” I don’t respond. He knows how I feel—why I left. “Anyway, you don’t have to agree. I’m just letting you know he’s going to call. And to let you know I got your back. Either way.”
“Thanks, man.”
We get off the phone. And shortly after, it rings again. I don’t recognize the number, but that’s not unusual. The Desperados wouldn’t have survived without burners. I run a hand over my face and answer. My head snaps up when Noel’s voice greets me.
“Hi, Trace.”
“Noel.” It’s not a question. A smile spreads over my face.
“Can we meet? I think I owe you some answers.”
The smile vanishes. “Um, yeah. Of course.”
***
The Old Barn looks different at night. White fairy lights illuminate the walkway as I make my way to Noel's office. I didn't get a chance to do much looking around on Saturday. My eyes, my focus, was on Noel. I'm glad this place survived. If it hadn't, I probably would have bought and renovated the property myself. Even though the barn is gutted, the original frame remains. They even kept the loft. It's a souvenir shop now, but it's there. Holding our secrets—if walls could talk, right?
I find her in a small room in the building's corner. This, too, brings back memories. This was a tack room. We'd christened this room as well. Hell, there was no private part in this barn that we didn't make love in. She sits in almost the exact spot an oaken table used to occupy, and, yep, made love to her there, too. My pants were half-mast as I drilled into her warmth while her legs wrapped around me, urging me on with kicking ankles, begging me to go deeper—faster.
I'm walking with ghosts while Noel sits behind her desk as if the things we did here don't matter anymore. It's only when she looks up that I realize her eyes are red-rimmed… haunted. Her pain hits me like a physical blow. I want to reach for her, but I let her set the pace since she's the one who called this meeting.
“I talked to my father,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to cost her something vital. “He told me everything.”
I nod, trying to keep my breathing steady. “Everything?”
She grimaces and wraps her arms around herself. “He said he threatened to call ICE on your uncles. Have them deported back to Mexico.” Her voice cracks, but she doesn't stop. I know her. Know she's determined to own up to all of her father's shit. “You were a citizen, but not all the Arroyos were. He knew exactly where to hit to make you run.”
The old anger rises in my chest, but I push it down. This isn’t about me anymore. It's about her, about the way her world has shifted on its axis.
“I couldn’t believe it at first,” she continues, her voice stronger now, edged with anger. “But then he tried to justify it. He said he was protecting me and that he didn’t want me to make a mistake and end up hurt.” She gives a hollow-sounding laugh. “As if he ever cared about my feelings before.”
She stands and paces the small space. “You know what’s worse? I finally understand. His hatred for my mother… extends to me. He sees me as the same ‘whore’ she was.” She spits the poisoned word out. “He didn’t say it explicitly, but the implication was there. It’s always been there.”
“Noel—”
She whips up her hand, stopping me. “I’m sorry, Trace. I’m so sorry for what he did to you, to your family.” Her eyes met mine, full of bone-deep pain. For the first few years, I imagined all the ways I'd make her father suffer. This is the first time I'm ready to strike. Ready to strike a blow for the way he's hurt this beautiful blessing he should have treasured. “I don’t understand why you’d want anything to do with me now. Unless…” She hesitates. “Unless this is about revenge.” Her eyes water, but she keeps her tears at bay. "If you want to make him pay for what he did, I get it. But please believe me. I had nothing to do with it. I would never have stood for it if I'd known."
The suggestion slaps me. “You think that’s what this is? That I'd ever hurt you? After everything we had?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.” She sinks back into her chair. “Things don’t just fall back into place like some fairy tale. People grow and change. We’re not those people anymore, Trace. ”
“Then let me get to know this Noel.” The words come out before I can stop them, raw and honest. “That’s the price of my forgiveness. Show me who you’ve become.”
She stares at me, weighing my words, testing them for truth. Finally, something in her expression shifts, softens.
“That’s all you want?”
“For now.” I give her a half-smile. “One step at a time.”
It's dark, but she lights up. I see the old sparkle in her eyes for the first time since I returned.
“Tomorrow,” she says, like she was testing the word. “We could meet tomorrow?”
I nod, fighting the urge to reach for her. To touch her. To claim her mouth the way I had in my office. But I can’t rush this. Not when there was so much at stake. Not when there is still so much she doesn’t know. Jelena’s face flashes in my mind, reminding me that things are more complicated than Noel knows. “Tomorrow sounds good.”
She stands, nervously smoothing down her skirt, making my mouth dry when I see what she's wearing. It's a simple black skirt with a red pin-striped sweate. Professional. Casual. But it clings to her curves in all the ways that I want to. “I’ll walk you out,” she says, completely unaware of how she's arrested me.
The Old Barn is silent except for the soft click of her heels against the wooden floor and my thundering heart. Every step beside her is torture—the gentle sway of her hips, the soft scent of her perfume, the way her fingers brush against mine. She pauses at the door, looking up. A small smile playing coyly at the corners of her mouth. “Mistletoe.”
I drag my eyes away from the question on her face to the sprig of green and white berries hanging above us. The same mistletoe that has probably witnessed countless kisses between happy couples at her wedding venues. “Noel…”
“It’s tradition,” she whispers, her voice carrying a hint of challenge. Of desire.
I know I should leave. Know that taking things slow means not giving in to every urge that screams through my body. But when she looks at me, with those eyes that graced my dreams for ten years, all my good intentions go up in smoke.Damn waiting and damn getting to know each other again. We know everything we need to know right here in this moment.
I back her against a wooden pillar. Bracing one hand beside her head, using the other to tilt her chin up. “You sure about this, sunshine?” The old nickname slips out before I can stop it.
Instead of answering, she grabs my shirt, pulling me down to her. The kiss starts soft and tentative, nothing like our angry clash in my office—as if our tongues are concerned with reconnecting. But then she makes this little sound in the back of her throat, and my control snaps. We may not know how minds and hearts have matured, but our bodies haven't changed one bit. She's still the one I want. The woman who drives me crazy with her taste. One nip of her lip, and I'm as desperate for her as ever. Shit. She tastes so fucking good. I press her harder against the wood, deepening the kiss until she melts against me. Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. She tastes like coffee and promises, and kissing her is more of a homecoming than I've ever had.
I work my hands under her skirt. Kissing down the side of her throat while she moans. Leaving love bites that will mark her as mine. Marks I could never leave before. "Are you wet for me?" My hands search out her core, desperate to know the answer before she can give it.
She moans yes, at the moment my fingers reach her dampness. I'm not sure if she's encouraging me to continue or answering my question. "Do you still taste as good?"
I don't need her answer—she moans again when I bring my fingers to my mouth to find out. Her body convulses when I lick my fingers clean and then drive them back into her pussy for another sweet taste. I want to taste every part of her. Fill my mouth with her breasts and tease her berry-colored nipples. The damn sweater is slowing me down. I can't pull it up and work my hands inside her at the same time. She gasps and grips my fingers like she never wants me to pull them out. So I give her what she wants. Scissoring inside of her with one hand and rotating her clit with the other. All while my mouth feasts on her lips and tongue. I catch her scream when she comes. Swallowing it with my harsh pants as she rides my hand to the wrist.
She's never looked more beautiful.
When we finally break apart, we were both breathing hard. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with want. It takes everything I have not to kiss her again.But I can't take her like this. Not when she doesn't know everything. I have a family. She deserves to know that before I claim her. Because once I do, I won't relinquish my claim again.
“Tomorrow,” I remind myself as much as her, stepping back before I can change my mind. “We’ll take this slow.”
She nods, touching her lips like she can still feel my kiss. “Slow,” she agrees, but her voice is shaky.
I wave when I close the door to my truck, and she closes the door. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough. But first, I need to figure out how to tell her about Jelena. About the life I’d built while we were apart. About all the ways I'm not the same man who left ten years ago.